There sits a certain love for a being,
An animal that dwells in caves at night.
Could naught compare to the act of seeing
Something as beautiful as such the sight
Of you, my darling, sweet, and cuddly bugbear?
You feast only in the glow of the moon,
But your victims’ cries of pain, I can hear*
Tearing limb from limb, you care not to swoon.
Peeping through a hole, I spot your brown hair,
It is grimy and splattered with some blood.
Once I strip your skin, I shall have a pair,
To hang lovingly over my mantle to brood.
My darling, sweet bugbear, should you exist,
You would be the greatest game, I insist.